Thunder and Lightening
by DeerMe
Summary: Teenage John meets teenage Sherlock through their weekend therapy sessions. John is a keen author but only keeps his stories to himself, Sherlock enjoys researching into human anatomy on a more physical scale. This will probably be a much shorter fic due to my much longer first fanfiction.


One thing I've always dreamed of, well, only recently, is a love so deep that you fall into an abyss of both pain and seduction.

The pain of knowing that the pain of breaking up is so great that it feeds energy and passion to both participants in the love story. Both the power of thunder and lighting is combined creating a spark that can sever souls into a darkness so great that it is light.

The idea that you can have someone you can speak anything about to prompts me into a world of worry and distrust, only naturally. Even the strongest structure could be destroyed with the simplest slip of the tongue. I presume that's the drive, though, that's the kick. The instinct and danger that puts life on its edge. That danger of grabbing your partners hand in agonising love or current distaste, to jump two feet in what is a plunge of enough energy to alter every emotion into neutral passion; and then to help each other scramble back up the bank of the river and patch up each others scrapes on their knees. Because, ideally, that is the love any human would want. Regardless of hatred, the idea of cleansing yourself in the most non-religious way possible, with your lover, in the always temperamental element of water, is something any sane person would want.

But that's the side of love you only speak of, you only dream of, you only hear of. The other type is that agonising pain of the love that will never happen. Be it with someone who doesn't love you back, lives a far distance away, is a celebrity, or, is fictional. That love is only a hope or story you create in your mind and fall to sleep thinking of, or, cry yourself to sleep to. A different pain, a different sorrow, and a different passion.

Compare it to The Moon. When it is full, and completely bare of any cloud, it is the romantic imagery or fallacy any author will use to present to you the most 'perfect love story' ever to grace existence. Or, the droning status or tweet a mindless adolescent will use to describe their date with their perfect partner. But, mostly, to me, The Moon is always covered just enough so you can see its shape and outline, but like it has been covered in a sheet of tissue paper. Delicate enough to dream of, but only to dream; and never touch. Almost like the love is there, but I must pick at it gently to reveal its glowing passion and beauty.

That brings me to my story, my love, and my loss.

Fourteenth of July, a date only significant to half the population on earth. I think it's special to only myself, and then I remember the other billions of people whom are just as happy or more than happy as me. Because that is the thing, that when you are feeling like you are on top of the world, all of life, and all of creation, you actually lose track of the world around you, and that people will always be bigger, better, stronger.

Anyway, it's currently 4:39am and I'm wide awake witnessing what I can only describe as the most stunning thunder and lightening storm I have ever seen so far in my life. One wall in the bedroom I'm currently in is practically made of glass, facing the back to the building, which is facing miles of land over bliss and peaceful countryside. Well, that was until Thor decided to wake us all up within the tender hours of early morn. But that leads me to my metaphor of thunder and lighting being a relationship.

You can't have one without the other, both as passionately biting back as the other, completely screaming across miles of land their sorrows and feelings, and if it lasts long enough; we will be graced by what is the child of the relationship, Rain.

Ironically, I'm alone. Completely and utterly alone. I would be afraid, completely out of my mind and calling anybody who is ridiculous enough to be witnessing such wonder right now, or anyone who has such a mucked up sleeping pattern that they're up gaming or reading, or perhaps cooking a fry-up. But, the comfort of the metaphor that I'm creating from something that should be dominant and feared by is completely overwhelming, and is somewhat relaxing. That is until I start thinking 'Well, if Thunder can get a girlfriend, why can't I get a boyfriend?' Because it's not capable of such emotion and thought, John. (Yeah, my name is John, short for Johnathon.) But when it is almost reaching five in the morning and you haven't eaten anything for a good ten hours you generally start to think that Lightning has a city job and is a hard working mother and that Thunder works manual labor on a farm seven and a half miles out from their home. Oh, and they're expecting another kid. Well...I assume they are after what I just witnessed.

I live at home all week and then attend a Friday to Sunday therapy session at a home in the midst of the countryside. It's certainly not fun, and I'm certainly not given a justified amount of space.

That was until I met Sherlock Holmes. I was the Thunder, and he was the Lightening.


End file.
